


Wherever she goes, [a van with a homeless teenager] follows

by 26stars



Series: How I Met Melinda [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU Meeting, Gen, Investigator AU, not really fluff or angst? seriously have no idea what to label this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: “I’m the private investigator that was hired by your ex to track you down and you totally caught me sitting outside your apartment in a rental car so hi what up” AU





	Wherever she goes, [a van with a homeless teenager] follows

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't put a lot of thought into Skye's age until I was almost done with this, so let's just say she would have been eighteen or nineteen when this scene happened.

Melinda pulls into her parking spot in front of her building and kills the engine, watching her mirror for the headlights of a second car to pass behind her. As expected, the vehicle she’s been keeping an eye on slides past on the road just beyond the lot, circling around to the far side of her building.

_Amateur._

She grabs the sack of takeout, her bag, and her phone before climbing out of her car and striding to the door of her walk-up. She lets herself in, glancing around the lot again under the pretext of shutting the front door behind herself. She doesn’t see the car anywhere, but she doesn’t let her guard down just yet.

As she climbs the stairs, Melinda opens a new message on her phone and texts with one hand.

**_You’re wasting your time._ **

He doesn’t reply as she lets herself into her apartment, tucks the takeout in the fridge, and goes to change clothes, but a message appears on the phone’s screen as she pushes her hair into a ponytail.

**_I don’t think so—got you to text me. Are you okay?_ **

Annoyed, Melinda lets her phone clatter to the counter as she tosses it aside and picks up her keys, stuffing them into the small zipper pocket on her hip after locking her door behind her and heading for the stairs again.

It’s nearing the end of November, so the air is chilly as she steps back out in the growing dark. She zips up her pullover and checks out the lot again as she stretches her hamstrings in the cool autumn breeze, but there’s no sign of the van.

_Probably around back…_

She passes the car on her loop around the building to the back alley and makes a note of its location. She keeps an eye out as she makes her way to the river on her usual running route, but the car makes no noticeable appearance for the five kilometers out. Melinda gradually relaxes, letting her thoughts slowly go quiet as she runs, her muscles singing with relief after another day being hunched over a desk. As she makes her way back down the same back road to her building, however, she spots the van still parked in the same place, the interior lights on, and makes a snap decision.

 _Anyone stupid enough to drive a car this memorable probably isn't smart enough to be armed,_ Melinda thinks as she grabs the handle of the side door and slides it open.

Of all the things/people she was picturing to see inside the van, a teenaged girl with a laptop was not one of them. The kid actually yelps as the door slides open, scrambling instinctively away but quickly colliding with the other side of the cabin behind her.

“You really should lock the doors if you’re going to be parked back here all night,” Melinda says, her eyes quickly taking in the shotgun mic and surprising amount of electronic equipment in the small space, as well as the pallet of blankets and mess of clothes scattered on the floor of the van.

“ _What are you doing_?” the girl snaps, clutching the laptop to her chest and staring at Melinda with wide eyes. “Get the hell out of my car!”

“I’ll go if you go,” Melinda shrugs, meeting the girl’s gaze sternly. “I’d really like for you to stop following me.”

The girl is obviously trying to feign innocence, but it’s hardly working. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you think…”

“You really want to do this?” Melinda cuts her off, glancing meaningfully around at the equipment filling the car before looking expectantly back at the girl.

_If you’re hired to follow me, you know exactly what I'm capable of._

The kid opens her mouth like she’s trying to think of a comeback, but Melinda rolls over it to the next question.

“What is he paying you?”

For a moment, it looks like the girl is going to play dumb again, but abruptly, she sighs, looking away.

“More than I’ve made in the past couple of months combined, so I’d kind of like to keep this gig if you don’t mind.” She looks back towards Melinda on the last phrase, scowling half-heartedly.

“Then tell him the truth--that I’m doing nothing out of the ordinary--and he’ll keep paying you until he believes you,” Melinda retorts unsympathetically, “but he needs to mind his own business and leave me alone. And you need to leave.”

“Look, he just wants to know that you’re okay,” the girl snaps, setting the laptop aside and sitting up straight for the first time, facing her boldly.

“I’m as fine as I should be,” Melinda says, narrowing her eyes. “I’m also not his problem anymore, in case he misunderstood what _divorce_ means.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “He said you would say that,” she says, pushing a hand through dark hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in a couple of days. “He also warned you’d probably catch me no matter how hard I tried not to be noticed.”

This, finally, surprises Melinda. “If he was so sure, then why did he even bother paying you to do this?” she asks, trying to sound indifferent.

“Because I can check computers,” the girl says, rolling her eyes and gesturing to the mess of equipment around her. “And listen into buildings.”

Melinda narrows her eyes. “What, he wanted to see my browser history? Hear if I was having too much fun?”

“No,” the girl snaps, folding her arms. “He wanted me to check for any red flags—you know, bad google searches or writing goodbye notes or something awful like that.”

Melinda pauses, staring at this girl who already knows far too much about her. “I’m not suicidal,” she says steadily.

“Good,” the girl responds, nodding once. “But you’re also not okay, and he’s worried about you.”

Aggravation flares in her chest again, and Melinda reaches for the door handle to slam the door and end this. “Tell him to stay out of my life, and tell him I said to pay you for the month, but I had better not see you again.”

She’s sliding the door shut when a strong, determined hand catches it and slides it back, and Melinda finds herself face-to-face with the kid again, now sitting up on her knees at the edge of the car’s cabin.

“Look,” the girl snaps indignantly, glaring at Melinda in the half-dark, “you don’t have to forgive him for doing this, and you don’t have to think this is okay. But in case you can’t tell, he cares about you. And not in a creepy, psycho, ex-who-can’t-take-a-hint way—in an ‘I love this person and I want good things for them even if I’m not one of them’ way. He didn’t tell me what happened to you, just said it was something pretty heavy and that you weren’t taking help from anyone. He’s just worried you’re going to dig yourself into a hole you can’t get out of without help.”

Impressed as she is by the girl’s boldness, the frustration in her chest continues to flicker, despite the apparent sincerity of the words. Nevertheless, she recognizes that this girl doesn’t deserve to have Melinda’s anger taken out on her.

“It _was_ something bad,” she responds, holding the kid’s gaze. “It was awful. But I’m trying to move on, and it would be nice if my past would stop following me.”

One side of the girl’s mouth pulls into a tired grimace as a cold breeze blows down the alley, stirring the national road map and mess of documents stuck to the walls of the van behind her. “Well, I know how that feels.”

Melinda glances at the space behind her again, at the accumulation of belongings, trash, and food, the clothes the girl is wearing, her dirty hair, and puts the pieces together.

“You live in this van?” she asks, and the girl has a defensive note in her voice as she shrugs, glancing away.

“By choice.”

_Yeah. She does know how that feels._

“Look,” Melinda sighs, taking her hand off the door handle and letting the door slide open again. “Come up to my place for a little while. You can call my ex and tell him what happened tonight, and I can get on the phone and tell him what happened if you need backup—or maybe just talk to him enough to satisfy him. Also, I have a shower if you want to use it, and take-out if you want something hot to eat.”

Visibly surprised by the offer, the girl looks back up at Melinda, wrapping her arms around herself in the cold air and seeming to weigh Melinda’s trustworthiness.

“You already know everything about me,” Melinda reminds her. “And apparently you’ve already been listening into my place. Might as well _see_ the inside.”

She can tell the girl is bending as she looks away again.

“I could be a psycho,” she says. “You’re awfully trusting.”

“I'm a trained agent--you don't scare me," Melinda reminds her with a raised eyebrow. "And anyway--my ex is a pretty good judge of character. If he gave you this job, then I don't think I have anything to worry about.”

Finally, the girl looks back at her again.

“You don’t even know my name.”

“I’m Melinda,” Melinda offers unnecessarily, holding out one hand.

The girl stares at her for a long moment before placing her own hand in it.

“I’m Skye.”


End file.
